


don't let me go, stay by my side

by chasingjupiter



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Pining, really monstrous pining, soonyoung loves jihoon so much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-02-23 14:50:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23846422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chasingjupiter/pseuds/chasingjupiter
Summary: "Stay with me."
Relationships: Kwon Soonyoung | Hoshi/Lee Jihoon | Woozi
Comments: 4
Kudos: 85





	don't let me go, stay by my side

“Stay with me.”

The words are soft, almost inaudible, but firm. Characteristic of Jihoon, Soonyoung thinks. His voice is gravelly but warm, his hand clasping his own gently.

A moment passes. Soonyoung, limbs tense from preparing to push aside his portion of the down blankets, wills his muscles to melt back into a relaxed position. He doesn’t say anything, but Jihoon seems to understand. They’ve always been better at communicating nonverbally, anyway.

Even though Jihoon’s reached out this time, he doesn’t curl into Soonyoung’s touch the way Soonyoung sometimes wishes for. Jihoon stays flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling with unmoving eyes. They’re not blank, though - Jihoon’s eyes could never. From his years of sending fleeting, yearning glances at Jihoon, Soonyoung’s never once seen those jewel-like eyes empty or void of expression.

Jihoon, he’s - he can close himself off physically, verbally all he wants, and Soonyoung can gaze deep into his eyes and see it all. Sometimes the depths are murky, a little clouded, but nonetheless, he’ll know when to give him space and when to reassure him with kind words. Call it bullshit, call it fantasy: Soonyoung knows Jihoon, and neither of them can deny it.

Right now, it's the weight against his hand, the heat swelling between them. His palms feel a little slippery, his heart a beat ahead. He wants to tug Jihoon to meet his eyes and  _ understand  _ but the other boy knows all too well what he wants and Soonyoung has to remind himself that it's got to be from both sides. 

Soonyoung loves Jihoon.

And he's told Jihoon a million times, with his eyes, with his mouth, with his fingers. Jihoon knows Soonyoung loves him. It is a truth of their existence, and to Soonyoung, it is unchangeable.

Jihoon… Perhaps this is the only part of him Soonyoung does not know. He can stare into his eyes for all of eternity and he will probably never know. Jihoon cares for him, he’s sure, but does he love him? It is a mystery in his existence, and though he wishes for the opposite, it will likely be just as unchangeable as his truths.

In this context, Soonyoung replays the three words over again.  _ Stay with me,  _ he'd uttered, like those three words hadn't frozen him to the core. It’s harmless enough, but when he takes into account the fact that he’s currently in Jihoon’s bed, wearing Jihoon’s old, frayed t-shirt, facing Jihoon himself… Well, it’s not quite the same as the words being tossed around during the day.

The room is very quiet, and at the same time very loud.

He can't quite pinpoint the sound: it's either the dutiful whir of the fan or the rushing in his ears. It's the breaths, both his and Jihoon’s, in a syncopation digging at his skin. Past the window, the trees are still but their leaves fluttering, and Soonyoung imagines that he can hear them, too.

He thinks about how he could inch to his right and be pressed against Jihoon’s side, fit himself along the curve of Jihoon’s body. He could nudge his head a centimeter closer and be breathing into Jihoon’s hair, sweet-smelling and damp, dripping right into the pillow. The thought of Jihoon being a mere twitch away and yet feeling like there’s a whole ocean and a half between them… it haunts him.

His jaw loosens as if to say something to bridge that gap, but no words form. The base of his throat crawls with absence. There are a million beautiful words to give Jihoon, and none of them speak. There are a million simple words to give Jihoon, and none of them convey meaning. 

Words are such a fickle thing, he thinks desperately. In a way, it’s their only claim to time, and yet they’re meaningless. What are words worth, Soonyoung contemplates, when he and Jihoon can take one look at each other and understand?

They’re for times like these, when eyes refuse to meet eyes, and still, words fall short. 

Jihoon doesn’t even pretend to be sleeping. His eyes are open, placidly fixed on the ceiling. Maybe counting the pockmarks or tracing circles around the ceiling light or maybe not even seeing at all. He could be thinking hard, devising a melody, crafting lyrics. Soonyoung has never felt so unknowing.

The sun slowly, slowly trickles into the room, past the now-still leaves and the wood panels of the floor warm to a honeyed hue. It’s a testament to how Jihoon exists three-dimensionally in Soonyoung’s brain at all times - the first thing he thinks of, when his eyes flick to the slivers of wood visible past the edge of the mattress, is how Jihoon’s eyes glow in the same way when sunlight hits them.

Sunrise is cruel.

There’s this deep ache in his bones that longs to spring out of bed, close the curtains, tip-toe to Jihoon’s side of the bed and press a tiny kiss to his forehead. Brew a pot of coffee so Jihoon can wake up slowly to breakfast, pad over to the square foot of kitchen and eat in silence. Not the suffocating kind, but the easy, soupy silence that envelops them in warmth. Even now, the silence creeps into his joints and keeps them stiff, uneasy. Restlessness is not a stranger to Soonyoung, but its familiarity does little to mitigate the pain of it. 

Were he a braver man, he’d cave to the silence, swoop Jihoon into his arms, admire the dawn breaking on Jihoon’s face. Were Jihoon a more sympathetic man, he’d let Soonyoung lead him in a clumsy waltz right there in Jihoon’s bedroom, with the sun as their only spectator.

The desire for this idyllic image of his drives him straight to insanity. “Jihoon,” he croaks. “I-”

“Don’t.”

Jihoon is cruel.

It gets harder and harder to breathe. Soonyoung feels suspended in time, his head ringing with the scent of laundry, the leisurely strums of an acoustic guitar, a cold refusal. He should’ve known long ago that this was a bad idea, a terrible idea, but he’d trailed after Jihoon blindly, happily, content to kiss away his pain. Not properly, or lovingly, but sucking the pain from his skin at the base of his neck, mouthing wetly at his hip. He wants to blame himself, but he knows even now, if Jihoon rolled over and asked him to lick his wounds, he would in a heartbeat. He’d rake up his shirt without hesitation and press his teeth to his chest and dip into a haze so thick he wouldn’t even see the sun melting right into the room.

Jihoon had asked him to stay. That means something, except it’s not the something he’s so desperate for. Should he leave, then? Would it be better to cut it off before it tangles into something worse? “Should I-”

“No.”

Cruel.

“Then should I-”

“No.”

Frustrated and left with no other options, Soonyoung groans, intakes air like it’s his last lifeline, nearly shouts, “Then what should I do? Shut my mouth, let you toy with me?”

Jihoon deflates. “I wasn’t toying with you…” he says, pitifully.

“Then what? Does hope only exist to be crushed? Do  _ I  _ exist to be bruised and left hanging?”

“Don’t say things like that.”

He sighs, forcefully, and sits up so quickly the bed trembles. “Then what should I say?”

Jihoon sits up, too, but slowly. Like he’s chewing on thought, treading carefully. “I’ve been thinking about us, lately.” It’s very much like him to ignore Soonyoung’s question. And it’s very much like him to lead in with a break-up line, not that there’s anything to break up. “We never established any terms, when we started all this.”

“What is this, a rom-com?”

Jihoon doesn’t spare even acknowledgement. “Back when we started all this, I was a different person. I was young - you were young - and I was stupid. And hurt, all over. I didn’t know anything.

“But back then, when you found me, suddenly I knew one thing. I wanted you. I wanted you in some way, in every way, maybe. But when we got drunk and talked about friendship and dreams and loneliness, I knew I wanted you that night, and the only way I knew was sex. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Soonyoung whispers, but as usual, Jihoon continues trampling on without pause.

“I’m sorry for ruining it all. I’m sorry for turning a really, really good friendship into something like this. I can’t say I know anything, even now that I’m twenty-fucking-four and with an actual job and apartment, but like that night, I do know that I want you. I want you to kiss me softly, not roughly, to stay the night without me asking. I want you to stop hiding it when you stare at me in public. I want you to tell me to get my head out of my ass and demand just as much as I demand from you. In short, I guess, I just want you. I’m greedy. I want more of you.”

“You’re a cruel man, Lee Jihoon,” Soonyoung says, throat dry. “You’re really cruel. You’re maddening. You’re…” He trails off. “All your want is useless when you already have it.”

“Will you stay with me, Soonyoung?”

“All you had to do was ask.”

**Author's Note:**

> title from don't let me go by cigarettes after sex  
> i think i listened to exclusively cigarettes after sex while writing this (it's pretty easy to tell lol) so i was feeling fwb, soft but heavy pining... i was also getting best friends to lovers vibes but idk it's not very clear...  
> thanks for reading! <3
> 
> twitter: midnightmoonjuns


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